The sound of the alarm pierced the blackness of the room. Sara rolled over, involuntarily swatting the clock off the nightstand. It crashed to the floor. The buzzing stopped. Draping half off the edge of the bed, Sara peered down at the clock through squinted eyes. The clock blinked back 5:00 A.M.
“Too early for morning,” she sniffed and stretched as she turned on her back. Instinctively, she checked the bracelet she wore on her right wrist. The red-orange eye of the Witchblade was dark and quiet. Sara rubbed the stone, saying, “Looks like it’s too early for you too.”
A moment later, the electronic sound of a phone chimed. “Hmm… not too early for someone,” Sara grumbled as she grabbed her cell phone, flipped it open and said. “Pezzini, go.”
“Happy Valentine’s day, Sara,” a soft, familiar voice greeted.
Sara frowned. Not only is it too early for morning, she thought to herself, but it is most definitely too early for Kenneth Irons’ henchman. “Don’t you ever sleep Nottingham? One would think you’d be more concerned with tending to your boss at this hour. It is 5 A.M….”
Ian laughed quietly. “Surely, Sara, you are aware of the saying…the early bird…”
“…catches the worm.”
“…or the criminal, as the case may be.” Ian paused, waiting for a response.
“Yeah, I’m familiar with the saying. What do you want, Ian?” Sara questioned, not in the mood for mind games or cryptic warnings, especially at this hour. She had better things to worry about…things like sleep or work…. Sara wanted him to get to his point—quickly.
“Why of course I called to wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Sara sighed. She could almost visualize Ian smiling as he said that. Valentine’s Day. She had hoped to block the day out, or at least sleep through it. Yet, how could she miss the paper hearts and red balloons decorating the stores around Manhattan? There was even a cherub garland hanging on the precinct bulletin board, just above the mug-shots of the latest Most-Wanted posters. The signs were all around….Valentine’s day had been looming ahead of Sara and now it was here with Ian Nottingham being the first to remind her. This was all too much for coincidence that he was calling now, on this day, so early in the morning. Sara sighed again. Today was supposed to be the day of roses and candy, when lovers embraced in the sweet romance of each other’s passion. But for Sara it was the one day that reminded her of just how cold and lonely her bed had become and how complicated her life was since she donned the Witchblade. If only she could roll over and hide under the covers.
“Yeah… Happy Valentine’s day,” Sara muttered, now terribly awake and wanting to pummel the hell out of her punching bag.
“And Sara…”
“Yeah?”
“Trust your intuition,” Ian’s voice sounded serious as he continued. “The universe is guiding your life...especially today,” Click. The drone of the dial-tone echoed down the phone line.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sara asked the air, not exactly expecting a response. Then suddenly the phone began to ring, as if almost to answer. “Yeah, Pezzini,” Sara yelled into the receiver.
“And a good morning to you, sunshine” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“Sorry, Jake.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No,” she said sitting up, “Someone else had that pleasure. I’m wide awake.” Sara quickly checked the Witchblade, but it was still dim. “What’s up?”
“We got a case. It looks kind of odd.”
“When don’t we get the odd case, Jake?” She asked as she flung the blankets off the bed. Sara picked up her coffee cup from last night and began to take a sip. She frowned as she turned the cup over. Empty.
“Black, two sugars, right?” Jake asked through the phone.
Sara laughed. “Yeah, thanks,” she smiled as she made her way to the bathroom. “Where are you?” She flicked on the light switch and turned on the shower. “Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there.”
Sara approached the yellow police tape and flashed her badge at the street cop set on duty to guard the crime scene. With a nod he let her pass into the ordered-chaos of the ongoing investigation. Crime-lab technicians scoured the area for evidence, picking through loose trash and debris matted among the brush. Vicky Po was already doing a preliminary once-over, while Jack McCartey hovered.
“Jake,” Sara called out as she approached.
“Hey, Sara,” he said as he handed her a cup of coffee. “Is it cold enough for you?”
“Nothing like February in Gotham,” she said as she accepted the cup, her breath visible in the cold morning air. “Thanks for the Joe. There’s nothing like a morning cup to get a girl ready to view a crime scene,” she said to him in her husky voice and then turned to Vicky. “So Po, what’ve we got?”
“At first glance it looks like your run of the mill jumper,” Vicky commented as she stood to light her customary cigarette. She took a long drag, blew out the smoke and then dropped the butt in Jake’s cup of coffee before turning her attention back to the body. “Asian female, late twenties…”
“Dressed to kill,” Jake added as he passed his cup off on a technician walking by with a garbage bag. In unison, both Sara and Po raised an eyebrow at him. Realizing his faux pas, Jake cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he apologized.
Sara shook her head at Jake as Po handed her a pair of latex gloves and then turned her attention to the dead woman. Jake’s right, Sara thought to herself. She is dressed to kill…and in the middle of winter. The woman was positioned on her back. Her head was twisted sideways and her eyes had that all too familiar empty stare of the dead. The woman wore a red dress with matching stiletto heels, except that one was missing. Her long black hair had probably at one time been neatly swept up in a diamond clip. But now her hair was in a tangled with the clip barely embedded in the mess.
The two women squatted down beside the victim. “As I was saying,” Po continued. “It looks like your basic jumper. At first glance we didn’t find any visible marks on the body and nothing to indicate a struggle. “
“She’s also still wearing jewelry so we don’t think it was a mugging,” Jake offered, sounding professional in the hopes of redeeming himself from his previous comment. “Plus the boys in blue found nothing out of the ordinary on the bridge….”
Sara examined the woman’s jewelry. She wore an expensive bracelet of alternating red and white stones, and matching earrings. “Those are probably diamonds and rubies,” Sara hypothesized.
“Yeah, but look a few are missing,” Jake knelt down and pointed at the empty sockets where the stones used to be. “Maybe they fell out when she…ugh…landed….”
Sara shrugged. Why doesn’t this picture add up? She thought to herself as she continued her own inspection. “So if this is a routine suicide, why were we called?”
“Ah…” Vicky smiled. “Being that I have no life,” she said sarcastically. “I got here along with the medical examiner’s office.” She pulled out a black light and turned it on. She waved the light over the woman’s body. Splattered throughout the victim fluorescent marks appeared. “And we found this.”
“Blood,” Jake said as he peered over Sara’s shoulder.
“Good rookie,” Sara said giving him a look and asked Po. “So if it’s blood where did it come from if she doesn’t have any obvious wounds?”
“Good question but like I said at first glance she didn’t have any obvious marks,” Po gave Sara an all-knowing look and then began to explain. “We found something odd when med-ex was ready to bag and tag her. This is why we called you Pezz,” Vicky said as she gently turned the victim on her side and again held up the black light. The woman’s dress was cut low, revealing much of her bare back. Vicky slowly passed the black light across the woman’s skin. Once again fluorescent marks appeared. Only this time the marks were not random. “We’re not yet sure if it’s cleaned-up blood or something else…. And if it’s blood we won’t know if it’s hers or someone else’s until we get back to the lab.”
Sara nodded at Vicky Po’s words but she paid more attention to the pattern that was slowly puzzling itself together into an image that Sara had seen before...the very same image she had once seen on the forearm of Ian Nottingham. “It’s a dragon,” she whispered aloud. Suddenly, as if in response to her words, the eye of the Witchblade awoke in a fiery blaze. Sara looked quickly down at the bracelet. Quickly, she twisted it backwards, tucking it safely beneath her shirt and jacket.
“Any ideas what it means?” Po asked as she motioned to a set of med ex techs to bring the body bag. Both Sara and Jake shook their heads negatively in response to her question. “Well, if any one can solve the freaky and bizarre it’s you two. I’ll let you know what else I can find Pezz, once I thaw off.”
“Thanks Vick,” Sara said and handed Po her leftover coffee. “Here, this might help.”
Sara watched over as the med-ex techs prepared to remove the victim’s body from the scene. She wondered how the woman ended up dead wearing a hidden mark of the Black Dragons. After all, Mobius and the rest of the military unit are dead, Sara thought to herself.
“Except for Ian Nottingham.”
How is he connected in all of this? Sara thought back and then suddenly looked up to see the specter of her former partner standing stoically in front of her. “Oh Danny, not now,” she said in a barely audible whisper. Sara was not ready for this additional complexity.
“Come on Pezz,” Danny Woo smiled as he stood unnoticed among the scurry of workers. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have your back on this?”
“So Sara, where do you want to start with this one?” Jake turned to his partner, interrupting her internal discussion with Danny. “Sara? Earth to Sara,” he waved a hand in front of her face.
“Jake, sorry,” Sara apologized as she gave Danny a second glance. “Um, did she have any I.D. that we could run to see if we can find out who she is?”
“Nope,” he replied as he flipped through his notebook. “No license, credit cards, nada … all her purse had was a lipstick and a key.”
Sara nodded almost impatiently. “Okay, why don’t you start by running missing person reports for a woman with her description? From the way she was dressed, there must be someone looking for her,” she said, staring past Jake to see Danny watching on as the victim was carried away. “I’m going to stick around here and check around. Maybe I’ll find something that got overlooked.”
“And the key?”
“I’ll meet you back at the office and we can compare notes,” Sara replied as she walked off. Danny casually fell into step along side her.
“So wise Asian man what words of wisdom to you have to impart to me today?” Sara asked the air as she feigned examining for clues. “Care to explain why that woman has a dragon on her back… a symbol of the Black Dragons?”
“Sara, every journey must begin with a single step,” he replied.
Sara frowned and turned to directly face him. “You get that out of a fortune cookie?” she asked aloud, a little too aloud because it drew the attention of a few straggling cops. “Just thinking aloud,” she said to them as she waved. Then turning to Danny she asked quietly, “Could you be any more specific?”
“Ask Ian Nottingham.”
“And he’s just going to tell me. I can’t get him to give me a straight answer about this little trinket,” she said holding up her arm that bared the still glowing Witchblade. “Why would he tell me anything about this crime?” Sara asked as she began to walk back to where the victim was found. She squatted to look for the missing bracelet stones. Sara waited for a reply but received none. “Danny?” She asked looking over her shoulder. The ghost had vanished but peeking out behind a building corner was the last remaining known member of the Black Dragons.
Sara stood. She quickly walked towards Ian Nottingham while trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Sara did not want him disappearing like he usually did at the most inopportune times but she also did not want to seen with a known assassin. “Lurking as usual Nottingham,” Sara greeted as she rounded the corner.
Ian Nottingham wore black.—coat, turtle neck, pants and military boots—and his long dark hair was loosely pulled back. He seemed almost to be waiting. With arms folded behind his back he stood with head bowed and eyes downcast. “For you,” he said quietly as he presented Sara with a single long-stemmed rose. He quickly glanced up. For a moment their eyes locked. “For Valentine’s Day,” he said again offering her the flower.
“Nottingham!”
“Sara,” Ian replied with a wounded look in his eyes. He carefully caressed the petals before placing the flower within his inside coat pocket.
“How romantic,” Sara said unmoved. She had already seen Nottingham’s range of emotions from manic to depressive, from caring to homicidal. At one moment he could have been sent to kill her. At another he could have been her protector. He was ever-changing. “What do you know about this victim?” She asked pointedly. Ian’s eye’s widened in response. “Are there any more Black Dragons?” She questioned.
“Sara, you better than anyone know what happened to the Black Dragons,” Ian said, looking directly at her.
This time Sara was the one caught off guard. She flashed back to the day when she road the Buell into the warehouse only to find Ian fighting Mobius. The rest of the unit watched poised with guns and metal-arrows ready to fire. In the end all the dragons fell. Had it not been for the power of the Witchblade Ian would still be dead with one of those arrows fully embedded in his chest. Sara shook off the thought. It was not a pleasant one. “Nottingham,” she said with a less hostile tone. “I’m just trying to solve a case. If you know anything….”
“Come to dinner,” he interrupted.
“What?”
“Come to dinner,” he repeated, pulling out a card from his coat pocket and handed it to Sara. “And I’ll answer your questions.”
“All of them?”
“All.”
Sara raised an eyebrow as she took the card. She looked down at the finely scripted lettering imprinted on the card. It was an address. “Truthfully?” she asked as she began to walk away. She then stopped. Thinking better to clarify she asked. “No lies?”
“For as long as it is Valentine’s Day,” Ian stated plainly.
Sara winced at his words. “I’ll be there at six.”
Sara walked through the precinct parking lot as a light snow began to fall. She was confused. Over the last few years of wearing the Witchblade she was generally used to that feeling. But this is different, she thought to herself as she waved at a few cops before entering the building. Having dinner with Ian Nottingham is not the way I envisioned spending my Valentine’s Day.
“Hey partner,” Jake greeted as she entered their office. He was leaning back in his chair and had his feet up on his desk. “Find anything?”
Sara hung her hat and jacket. She laughed. Did I ever, she thought but answered. “I’m meeting up with a contact after work.”
“Fun way to spend V-day,” Jake laughed.
Sara frowned as she knocked Jake’s feet off the desk. She sat at the edge where they had been lounging. “And what did you find out rookie?”
“So far no missing persons fit her description,” he admitted and tossed Sara a small key. “Here, the lab didn’t lift anything off this so they released it to us. Not exactly a house key is it?”
Sara turned the key over with her finger tips and gave it a close look. The key was small and brass. What do you open? Sara thought at it. You’re definitely too small for a door-key.
“Maybe it opens a bus locker?” Jake offered answering her thoughts.
Sara shook her head. She held out the key and tapped its end. “See it’s not you’re typical unlocking mechanism,” she pointed out. In place of where the teeth would normally be cut out, this key had the grooving hidden. “This key was designed so it can’t be copied and that doesn’t come cheap.”
“It doesn’t give us much to go on.”
“No, it doesn’t” Sara frowned. She looked down at the Witchblade, which was now dark, and wondered. Why are you suddenly quiet?
“So where does that leave us?” Jake asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“On our way to see Po,” Sara replied as she headed for the door. She reached for the door, stopped and then continued. “Right now we’ve got nothing but a dead woman who may or may not have jumped, been pushed or whatever to her death in a formal dress but no coat in the middle of February. We found her wearing all her jewelry except for a few missing stones. The woman had no identification on her but did have a mystery key. Yet, no one has reported her missing and we can’t trace the key.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Jake said as he got out his chair, followed her out of the office and down to Vicky Po’s lab in the basement of the building. Sara rapped once on the door before she swung it open.
“At least this time you knocked, Pezz,” Po greeted while she peered through her microscope at a slide. “Maybe next time you’ll actually let me say ‘come in.’”
Sara smirked. “Vick, tell me you’ve got something for us.”
Po looked up from her microscope and swung her chair around. “As a matter of fact,” she grinned and picked up a piece of fabric. “This is a swatch from the victim’s dress. I tested it, and the victim’s skin, for blood.”
“And?”
“Negative,” Vicky smiled. “So I ran an IR and MS on some scrapings and they came back positive for barium titanate.”
“English, please,” Sara said then asked. “What’s barium titanate?”
“Barium titanate is a white powder. It’s a chemical used mostly in the electronics industry like in capacitors and sound equipment, but it’s also found in guidance systems in military equipment….”
“Mostly stuff like missiles, mines and sonar,” Jake explained, sounding all too knowledgeable.
Sara turned and gave Jake a look. “How do you know all of that?” Po asked. “I had to do some pretty extensive searching on the internet for that info.”
Jake blushed. “I had a buddy who was in the R&D for a military supplier.” Both Sara and Po mouthed an “ah” in unison.
“Anyway,” Po continued. “She was covered in it. There were small spots of the powder throughout her dress and somehow it was put into solution. That’s what made the dragon tattoo on her back.”
Both Sara and Jake nodded. “Good work Vick, at least we’ve got something to start with,” Sara said as both she and Jake headed for the door. “Keep looking and if you find anything else, give me a call.”
“Will do. Hey Pezz?” Vicky called.
“Yeah?”
“You have a Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah,” Sara cringed. “You too, Vick.”
Outside the lab, Jake waited for his partner. “I’ll start running suppliers of the barium titanate. Maybe that’ll give us a lead,” he suggested and then said. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night for both of us,”
“It looks that way,” Sara agreed.
“Anyway, I’ve got to make a few calls and change some plans for tonight.”
“Plans? As in more than one?” Sara teased.
Jake rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to get ready to meet your contact. Maybe they’ll know something about this….”he glanced down at his notes, “barium titanate. “
Sara nodded. I’m sure he will, she thought. I’m just not sure he’ll tell. Even with his promise, he still is Ian Nottingham…a black dragon.
The night was unusually cold for February. The fallen snow crunched as Sara walked down the sidewalk. For some reason that she was not quite sure of Sara had decided to leave the Buell at the precinct. Instead she headed out the door on foot. It was not until she reached the subway station and failed to find a token did she realize her error. After two subway rides, filled with people painting the city Valentine’s Day red, did she give up and decide to walk the rest of the way.
Sara pulled the card Ian had given her out of her pocket and looked at it. The lettering was calligraphy script and in gold. Probably real gold leaf, Sara suspected and wondered how costly the invitation was. Obviously Nottingham has this all well planned.
For all the expense that went into the invitation, the actual location of the address on the card was not exactly in the high rent district. Not your usual Kenneth Irons’ holding, Sara thought as she stopped in front of the building. Its brownstone was badly chipped. Trash littered the front and there was a homeless man curled up besides the entry steps. He was covered in a black plastic garbage bag, shivering in the cold. Sara stopped and dug into her leather jacket. Finding a couple of dollar bills, she handed them to the man.
“Nice neighborhood,” Sara whispered as she climbed the steps to the front door. She banged on it with its badly worn doorknocker. Sara waited. After awhile she could here the sound of footsteps heading towards the door. Sara braced herself as the door swung open.
It was not Ian Nottingham who opened the door. Instead, it was a small man with a rat-like face and an ill-fitted butler’s uniform that greeted her with a “yes?” Too stunned for words Sara held out the card. The man took it, gave both her and the card an once-over inspection and motioned her into the house, closing the door behind her.
“This way,” he said flatly, trying to conceal his Bronx accent. Not your typical English butler either, Sara thought as she followed.
The hallway was dimly lit by wall sconces. Some had bulbs burnt out while others flickered as Sara passed by. The threadbare rug covered a badly water-stained parquet floor. And, there was a draft. The seams of the front door swept cold air down the hall passage as if it were a wind tunnel. Sara shivered. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and quickly checked her bracelet. Before she could get a glance at its stone the butler suddenly stopped at a set of double doors toward the back of the house.
“Mr. Nottingham is waiting for you in here,” he said but did not open the doors.
“Mr. Nottingham?” Sara asked but received no reply other than a slight bow from the rat-faced man before he left her standing alone in front of the double doors.
Sara took a deep breath. Definitely not the way I expected the evening, she thought, then grabbed the handles of the doors and slid them apart.
Sara gasped. A blazing fire softly cast the room in a warm glow. Rose petals scattered the floor and bouquets of long stems filled the air with the sensuous smell of their rose fragrance. A table had been set for two with yet more red blossoms overflowing from a crystal vase.
Sara entered the room in awe of the scenery. It was far more than she imagined or ever expected. Although in some way she almost felt like she should. Expect the unexpected, she told herself, especially when it comes to Kenneth Irons and Ian Nottingham. Sara approached the table. She ran her fingers through the flowers. The petals were soft to her touch and their aroma filled her nostrils as she leaned over to smell them.
“I figured since one seemed … insufficient, then maybe several dozen would suffice,” Ian said, startling his guest.
Sara turned quickly and for the second time that night gasped. Ian stood elegantly in a midnight gray, double-breasted suit. The shirt beneath was a lighter charcoal color and partially unbuttoned at the top.
“You make me seem under-dressed,” Sara sniffed. Her nose was still cold and red from her long walk. Sara removed her knitted wool hat and wrung it between her hands. “So what’s all this, Ian?”
“Dinner,” he replied beaming a grin at her.
Sara stared almost mesmerized as Ian carefully drew the sliding doors shut. He approached with a long-stride cadence and stopped just short of where Sara stood, hovering over her. She looked up at him. He gazed down at her.
“I have some questions for you,” Sara spoke, trying to temper her voice. The combination of Ian’s own musky scent and the rose fragrance of the room made it difficult to concentrate on her main purpose for being there.
“Always the detective,” he responded.
Sara could feel his breath on her face as he spoke. Its softness felt almost like a gentle caress. This is Ian, she thought to herself in an attempt to snap herself out of this stupor. How many times has he tried to kill me, undermine me, and confuse me?
“I do have a case to solve,” she explained.
“One that you think involves the Black Dragons… one that involves me,” he said catching her eyes in his own.
“Yes,” she uttered. The words were becoming more difficult to form.
“I did say I would answer all your questions,” he leaned down, his face drawing closer to Sara’s.
“You did.”
“But first let us share a repast,” he spoke quickly as he pulled out a chair and held it for Sara. “The food is getting cold and roasted duck is never good cold…or so I’ve been told.”
With the spell momentarily broken, Sara pushed his hand away from the chair-back and exclaimed, “Ian!”
“Sara,” he spoke softly but pulled her near forcefully. “I made you a promise,” he whispered, his lips barely touching her ear as he spoke. “And, I have every intention of keeping that promise.”
“Then tell me what you know about that woman,” she whispered back, “and how she died.”
“…As well as how the Black Dragon’s are connected?” He said stroking her hair.
“Yes.”
“You are … relentless,” he spoke the words as he deeply inhaled her scent. “And, you are as intoxicating as the roses in this room.”
Sara attempted to push him away but was caught by the arms. Part of her wanted to will the Witchblade into action, fully knowing just how impossible it would be to get it to strike Ian. Yet the other part of her did not want to resist. In the oddity of the moment Ian’s touch was comfort and in a strange way almost affectionate. Sara found herself enticed by the man who at times was her nemesis but now seem more her paramour. The Witchblade bound wielder to guardian. Their eyes met. This time Sara did not want to pull away. The golden amber of Ian’s eyes held her gaze.
“Nothing in this world is accomplished without passion,” he said.
The words did not fully registered in Sara’s mind. She was more concerned with the quickly diminishing distance between herself and Ian. He tightened his embrace around her with one hand, while his other traced the curve of her jaw-line. Ian leaned down. Sara tilted her head back and closed her eyes.
This cannot be happening, She thought in a brief moment of anticipation. How long have I wanted this moment? Sara wondered.
She could feel Ian’s breath as he nuzzled her cheek. The hairs at the back of her neck tingled with excitement. She opened her eyes. Again Sara became lost in the deep brown sea of Ian’s eyes. Without a word, his lips approached hers. Just as they were about to touch he paused and smiled. His gaze absorbed hers. In that moment one saw an understanding within the other. Together their eyes closed. His lips met hers with an initial hesitation. Then as if a spark ignited, their kiss built to a heat that matched the flames in the fire.
Suddenly, the room went black. Ian pulled away from Sara’s kiss, leaving her confused and disoriented. What happened? She thought, puzzled. One minute he’s kissing me and the next… Sara felt a hand pull at her. It was Ian’s. He stepped in front of her as if to shield her from the danger that she still did not recognize. Only when she noticed the Witchblade aglow did the daze clear. Chaos ensued. The fire and the rest of the lighting in the room were out, except for the head-gear the assailants wore. They were at the windows and footsteps were in the hall outside the double doors. Automatically the Witchblade morphed. First into the gauntlet then into the sword, it changed into a formidable weapon. Somehow Ian had already managed to arm himself with his katana. He had already sensed what she had yet to discover.
“What’s going on?” Sara asked him. “What have you done?”
“I had no part in this, Sara,” he sounded almost as confused as she was. Obviously their interlude had left them both unguarded to the onslaught.
Men stormed the room. Windows shattered as they vaulted through. Ian sliced through the first few men as they landed and rolled across the floor. More came through. They slide down on rip-cords and kicked through the remaining shards of glass, this time more prepared than the last. A ram pummeled the sliding doors. As the door exploded, Sara and the Witchblade attacked. One man barely had time to draw his weapon before it was cut from his arm. It seemed that as one man went down two more immediately replaced him.
Suddenly a shot-round blasted. Sara turned only to see Ian stagger and fall. “Nottingham!” She called as she moved towards him, but she only got a few paces before she felt her world go dark. Her knees gave out from under. Pain seared through the back of her head. The Witchblade changed back to bracelet form, and Sara fell.
Sara woke slowly. Her head was throbbing. “Did anyone get the license plate of that car?” she muttered as she rubbed the lump at the back of her head. She rolled on her back. The cold stone floor helped numb her injury. She opened eyes. At first everything looked blurry but eventually things began to focus. Sara found herself in a damp cement room that lacked the comforts of even the worse holding cells that the 11th precinct had to offer. A metal door served as the only access to and from the room. A light bulb hung from a chain over-head. There was no cot, no chair, no table, not even a toilet bowl, in the room. Sara was in a prison that could only be found in the worst of nightmares.
“Welcome to the land of the living,” Danny said as he stood in the corner of her cell. “Or—so to speak.”
“Thanks, I think,” she replied as she sat up, carefully. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Around…”
“Why couldn’t you’ve been around when the lights went out?” She asked rhetorically, as she staggered to her feet. “What time is it?”
“11 o’clock,” Danny replied.
Valentine’s Day is almost over. She thought and instinctively checked her wrist. The Witchblade was still there. “That’s odd. They didn’t take it.”
“They’re not after the Witchblade,” Danny explained.
“Well that’s a first,” Sara said sarcastically. “I thought everyone was after the Witchblade. So what are they after?” Then it dawned on her. “Ian…”
“Sara, many a false step is made by standing still.” Danny’s words echoed throughout the room.
“Danny, we need to get you some better fortune cookies,” she laughed. But, her spirit-guide had disappeared even though Sara wished he had stayed. She missed him as a partner and friend in the real, alive sense. His mystically visits reminded her of how she teetered on the high-wire between sanity and her own version of madness.
“Maybe it’s about time I switch the tables on Nottingham and become his protector,” she said as she willed the Witchblade into its gauntlet form and then ejected its knife with a metallic “snikkt.” “Besides he owes me a few answers and I only have an hour to get them.” Sara jammed the blade into the doors lock. She twisted the Witchblade, grinding away at the lock, and removed the entire mechanism. The door easily swung open with a kick. The anteroom to the cell was empty.
Obviously since they don’t think I’m the threat, why would they leave guards, Sara thought to herself with a menacing grin. Oh, how they don’t know me!
Quickly Sara ran up the steps to the landing and listened at the door. She could hear voices but they sounded far away. Sara opened the door a crack and peered out. The hallway was empty. Slipping through the door, she crept down the corridor. Like her cell, the hallway was made of cement but it had windows at the very top. The voices started to get louder and echoed. I must be in a warehouse, she thought as she continued to make her way towards the voices that were now mixing in with the sound of lashings. Sara moved quicker towards the sounds. As she walked the Witchblade’s eye burned with an intensity she had not felt before. When she reached the end of the hallway she understood why.
The hall opened into a great room. It indeed was a warehouse, half of which was being used to assemble weapons. Rockets and surface-to-air missiles rolled down receiving parts. A pile of finished products lay in the corner. Sara then noticed two people in lab coats applying white paste to a selection of circuitry. I bet that’s barium titanate, she thought as she started to piece together the puzzle. But how are the Black Dragons involved? She wondered but the sound of another lashing drew her attention to the other end of the room where a gathering of men surrounded one chained to the wall. Stripped half-naked, Ian hung from iron shackles. He was battered and bloody.
Sara snuck along the cat-walk until she stood above the group. Quickly she checked the Witchblade. Glad you’re going to be a willing participant in this, she thought at it. The Witchblade glared red in response.
With a single leap, Sara jumped off the walk and down to the warehouse floor, landing in front of Ian. Instantly the Witchblade became the broad-sword. Six men moved towards Sara at once but the Witchblade was in control. It protected its own. The man with the whip never made a move before he was cut down. Another drew a gun and got off a shot, but the shot was easily deflected away. He never had the chance to make another. Someone grabbed a welding torch while another splashed gasoline at Sara. The one with the torch set the gas aflame. It streaked towards the wielder as she approached. The flames raged. Sara was not deterred. She walked through them as if they were not there and appeared completely armored when she emerged on the other side. The rest of the men ran as she drove her still burning sword into the man with the torch. She looked towards the weapon workers. Many had already run. Others stood dumbfounded at what they were seeing. None made a move towards her.
Sara turned back towards Ian. Is he conscious? She thought as she approached. The Witchblade again transformed, this time back into its gauntlet formed. Sara made a fist and punched Ian’s restraints, shattering them. He fell limp into her arms. She was not used to seeing him like this, having seen him truly injured only one time before. This time he was unconscious but at least not dead. She put her head against his chest and could hear his heart faintly beating and his skin still felt warm.
“Usually you feign hurt,” she said aloud to no one in particular and wondered how it was possible that this time he really was. “The only other time I’ve seen you hurt is when you fought Mobius….”
“Another Black Dragon,” someone said from behind.
Sara turned her head quickly towards the voice. The fire had been extinguished after it had fully supped on the remaining gasoline. The man that stood before her was dressed in black. He was big, tall and muscular, and in a certain light he vaguely resembled Ian. The man held up his forearm, revealing a black dragon tattoo.
“You see it matches his,” he said, his words full of satisfaction.
“Who are you?” Sara demanded.
“Don’t you recognize me?” He returned her question as he began to circle her like a hunter to its prey. “I am a Black Dragon.”
“There are no more Black Dragons.”
“I am the beta version, the prodigal son to a Black Dragon,” he nodded at Ian. “They call me Cain.”
Sara’s eyes flared. She stood, drew the Witchblade into a sword and approached the man. He stood defiantly. Sara moved to strike and plunged the Witchblade at him. As the tip of the blade was about to pierce his outer garments, it retracted back into gauntlet form. “No,” Sara commanded.
“Doesn’t seem to work does it?” He mocked at her as he grabbed the gauntlet by the wrist. “I wonder why?” He queried and then demanded. “I want my key.”
“Your key?”
“The one that bitch Kiori stole from me. She used to work in my lab and suddenly got a feeling of conscience. I know you have my key. I saw your partner take it before I got the chance to clean up.” He pulled her tightly close to him.
“I don’t have your key,” she lied. She had forgotten to remove it from her pocket before she left the precinct. “Besides what would you need it for?”
Cain back handed Sara, splitting her lip open. “You lie,” he growled. “Don’t play stupid with me.” A vein in his forehead bulged with fury. “The key is a proto-type to my targeting systems. The locks are keyed to it.”
Sara shook off the pain in her jaw and fought loose her arm. She held the gauntlet forward, concentrated, and screamed her will at the object of power. But the gauntlet remained a gauntlet. Cain again grabbed her arm and held the metal fist to his throat. “You see it still doesn’t work,” he bared his teeth, looking almost feral. “Now give me my key!”
No wonder they weren’t concerned with me, Sara thought as fear began to build with her. The Witchblade doesn’t work against him…just like it never worked against Nottingham.
A glimpse of realization came to her. “You are not Ian,” she spat.
“No, I am his child,” his laughed. “At least a quarter of me is.”
“How is that possible?” Sara asked perplexed.
“I understand what he sees in you,” Cain mused, ignoring her question. He playfully wound the fingers of his free hand through her hair. The other hand continued to clutch the still mute Witchblade. “You are very… exquisite.”
Sara struggled to pull away but this time Cain held on tighter. Witchblade I command you, she thought. This is not Nottingham.
“Feisty too,” Cain smirked.
“My genetic make-up is complicated, half is a combination of Ian and the one they called Mobius. The other half belonged to a woman that was cryogenically frozen. Her name escapes me now.”
“Bronte…Her name was Elizabeth Bronte.” At that moment Sara understood. The Witchblade would not kill one who had wielded it. Within the veins of Cain sprung the genetic code of her ancestor. “She was my grandmother.”
“How incestuous? Maybe I should call you mother?”
“Maybe I should call you dead,” the soft whisper of a voice said from behind. “Son,” Ian said with distain.
Cain gulped awkwardly as he coughed up blood. Protruding from his bowls was the pointed end of a sword. Sara backed away as a combination of blood and bile splattered to the floor. Cain released his grip on her arm, spun and fell backwards to the floor. The blade drove through his chest as he landed dead.
Ian staggered forward. “Are you hurt?” He asked as he reached for her.
Sara caught him in her arms and nearly collapsed from his added weight. “No,” she replied concerned. “Can you walk?” She asked.
He nodded in reply. “It’s almost midnight,” he whispered as he held her almost longingly. “I promised to be completely truthful until then.”
“I know,” she said but she also knew that he had nothing to do with Kiori’s murder, at least not knowingly. For once Ian Nottingham was completely innocent of a crime involving the Black Dragons. “I know you’re not involved. I’m sorry,” she apologized as they began to walk.
Ian stopped. He turned towards her and touched her face with a bloody hand. A smear stained her skin as he stroked her cheek and neck. He leaned down towards her and gently kissed her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “Tonight could have been…special…” he paused before finally passing out in an embrace within her arms. This time Sara did fall to the floor.
It was a while before Sara made it home. Valentine’s Day was over. The pink morning dawn was creeping up over the horizon by the time she had Ian cleaned up and quietly resting in her bed. She sat curled up in a chair and watched him breathe. Initially it was shallow breaths but as the morning light began to stream into the room his breathing became deeper and she began to relax. How am I going to explain any of this to Jake let alone Dante? She thought to herself as she held her cell phone. Jake’s number had been typed in for over an hour waiting for her to press the send button. Or how am I going to explain this to myself?
“Who who’ve thought Ian Nottingham in your bed, eh Pezz?” The welcomed voice of Danny spoke as he appeared behind her.
Who would’ve thought? Sara nodded. Least of all me. He seemed less of a Black Dragon beneath her white sheets. “He looks almost peaceful,” she said absently.
“Like an angel?”
“Maybe a fallen one,” Sara laughed quietly. “But aren’t we all in some way?” She looked up at Danny who smiled back and replied. “It’s good to begin well, Pezz, but far better to end well.”
“I like that one.”
“For once,” he grinned. “I’ll catch you later, Sara,” Danny said as he walked away, vanishing more with each step.
Sara did not seem to notice. Instead she got up from her chair and pressed the send button to her phone. The line rang twice before Jake answered. “Yeah, McCartey…” he sounded groggy.
“Hey, Jake,” she began. “It’s Sara. I’ve a lead on the case….” She paused but then corrected herself. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve solved it. My contact knew of an old warehouse that’s been converted into a weapons assembly line.”
“Yeah?” He started waking up. “I’ll get a team together and we’ll go investigate.”
“I’ve already been there,” she said as she moved to the edge of her bed. “You need to bring in a clean-up crew. They left everything—weapons, targeting…”
“Barium titanate?”
“Yeah it’s all there,” she said sitting down. “There’s even evidence that the woman, Kiori Saito, was a lab tech there. But we’ve got a problem,” she said as she brushed a dark strand of hair away from Ian’s face. His eyes fluttered, and then opened. Ian slipped his hand into Sara’s and kissed it just below the Witchblade. Sara squeezed his hand as he pulled her down into his arms.
“What’s that?” Jake asked.
“Looks like we may have more Black Dragons,” Sara stated calmly as she curled up next to Ian with his arm circling around her.
The End...